Golden Brown
by rosesforwriting
Summary: He was the stranger from the coffee shop, golden like the sun. She was the tired barista, trying not to strangle him the second the irritating words came spilling from his lips. And this is the story of how they met, and how they danced to the Stranglers in the middle of an empty coffee shop. Clace, friendship. Possible multi chapter.


A/N: I have a plot idea, so let me know if you want a continuation, other wise this is a possible oneshot. P.S. - listen to Golden Brown by The Stranglers. Its something else.

Golden Brown.

...

She had been watching him for days. He came in early, at around eight in the morning, and ordered a coffee to go. Before this week she hadn't had the pleasure of taking the morning shift, but now, that week, she finally knew what Isabelle was talking about when she talked about the golden God that graced the dingy Java Jones coffee shop every morning, but she had yet to serve him.

And now, as he walked in the door, Clary had the honour of serving him for the first time. She watched as his lean figure pushed through the door, long legs trapped inside skin tight black jeans, a tight white t shirt hugging his toned chest. She tried to hide the drool as he approached, sweeping a hand through his too long, golden hair that fell messily around his ears in thick curls.

It was ridiculous how attractive he was.

Snapping herself out of it she tried to look occupied with the cash register as he approached, averting her gaze and addressing him in a bored voice.

"Morning- what can I get you?" She droned out, and all of a sudden she couldn't help herself. Glancing up, she caught his face just as his eyes were flicking across her face, and she was momentarily stunned by the surreal pools of molten yellow; deep, golden brown, thick enough to swim in. As she took in the rest of his sculpted features, the strong chin and chiselled jaw and the full lips, she realised that she could drown in those eyes and die happy. She was brought back to reality as his lips stretched into a cold smirk, and she shook herself.

"I'm sorry, I missed that." She said as politely as she could.

"I know." The god replied, and Clary swooned internally at the English accent. "I get that I'm attractive, love, but there really is no need to stare."

Her perfect image of his gentlemanly nature shattered, and as his beautiful lips twisted into a panty dropping smile, Clary's expression hardened.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to be rude; I've just never seen an ego so big. There's not much room in here and I'm surprised that it fit through the door." She retorted dryly. The man's smile just widened.

"How you wound me, baby. I know you don't mean it." He leant in across the counter, and Clary held her breath as his warm scent washed over her, his eyes darkening as they stared into her eyes. She licked her lips and leant in.

"Coffee, please. To go." He suddenly exclaimed, pulling change out of his back pocket. Clary blanched and tapped at the till, ignoring the satisfied smirk of the ass in front of her.

"Two dollars." She barked out, and then busied herself with coffee, wishing the cafe was busier or another barista was with her.

A moment later she handed over the paper cup, pressing it carefully into his hands.

"Enjoy." She muttered, and the man kept smiling his infuriating smile. "Cream and sugar is here." She gestured to the station beside her, praying he took his coffee black. But no. He moved to fill the cup with creamer, and she could feel his eyes burning into her as she cleaned the temperamental coffee machine.

"So." Came the lilting voice from behind her. "I've never seen you before. Usually there's another one, black hair. Long legs."

Clary scoffed at the description of her best friend.

"Yeah that's Izzy, and no, I won't give you her number. So don't even ask."

He laughed.

"That's not what I was getting at; just wondering why I haven't seen you before."

Clary widened her eyes; he was making small talk. Why?

"I work nights." She forced out. "More cash in it." Stupid. She was babbling.

"Hmm. I'm more of a morning coffee person myself." He stated with the same shit eating grin, and Clary rolled her eyes as he snapped the take away lid onto his coffee. She turned away.

"Have a nice day." She stuttered in an attempt to end the awkward exchange. She didn't see the flash of amusement, or wonder, which crossed his face.

"Oh." Started the guy again, his accent mesmerising. "My day is already better."

And with that he turned on his heel and left, ignoring the excited whispers from the group of customers walking through the door.

Clary leant against the counter, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest, fluttering manically as the blush flooded across her body.

/

"Claa-ryy!" Isabelle sang out, dancing through their apartment in her thigh high boots and tight black dress, the sound of grungy music filling the rooms. "Just come out and show me!"

Clary grimaced at her reflection in the mirror; it was the first night off that the two of them had had off together in months, and despite Clary's request of a girl's night in, Izzy was insisting on a girl's night _out._

"Izzy, I look ridiculous!" She shouted back, pulling at the hem of her skirt. Izzy had been adamant about doing her make up, and her hair, and now she stood in front of the mirror, green eyes wide and surrounded by smoky black, a too short dress stuck to her like a second skin.

All of a sudden the door burst open, and standing menacingly at her door was her best friend, an indignant look on her face; when her eyes landed on Clary however, the look stretched into a smug smile, wide and excited.

"You do not look ridiculous, you dunce. You look hot!" She grabbed Clary's hand and before she could protest, the shorter girl was being pulled from her bedroom by her exuberant best friend, who threw her a pair of strappy black heels and a leather jacket.

"Put those on; Simon'll be here in five." With that she set off dancing again, and Clary couldn't help but stare. No matter how long they had been friends, how many bad days and lazy nights they had spent together, Isabelle Lightwood always stunned her. She was statuesquely tall, with long creamy pale legs that Clary often caught guys and girls staring at. Her hair was long and jet black, currently hanging free across her shoulders, straight as a pin and twirling with her dancing; most breath taking was her face. Heart shaped and flawless, her face played host to almond shaped eyes the colour of chocolate, always rimmed with full lashes and dark eyeliner, a sleek nose perfectly proportioned, sculpted eyebrows that any model would be jealous of and full lips that were usually painted rosy red. Tonight, they were deep purple and captivating. Clary sighed, grumbling as she pulled on the death trap shoes and the jacket.

It was unfair for her best friend to look like that, when Clary was a glorified gnome.

The door bell rang, and knowing full well that Izzy would never get it, Clary trudged along to pull it open, greeting her other best friend with a frustrated look.

Simon was wearing his idea of 'clubbing attire'- black jeans and a slightly crumpled graphic tee.

"Simon." Clary greeted, and Simon laughed at her expression, his eyes widening slightly.

"Clary." He replied, stepping in and nearly shouting over the noise. "You look…" And at that moment he caught sight of Izzy, dancing entrancingly in the centre of the living room. His breath caught in his throat. "Amazing."

Clary smacked his arm to stop the staring, and he let out an indignant noise.

"Hey!" He yelled. Clary rolled her eyes.

"Stop drooling Si. All of a sudden, I'm really in the mood for a drink."

Grabbing her purse she shut off the music, and this finally caused Izzy to notice Simon's presence, bouncing over to his spluttering body and greeting him cheerfully, grabbing her bag and pulling Simon out to his car.

"Shot gun!" She called over her shoulder, and Clary laughed. Yep; she was definitely in need of a drink.

/

The club Isabelle had chosen was pulsing and, despite it only being early, it already had a long line snaking along it. Clary prepared to queue up for the next three hours, however Izzy simply grabbed her hand, linked her other arm with Simon and began to drag them to the front.

"Iz! W have to wait, there's like ninety people out here." Clary protested, but Izzy just laughed.

"You'll see." She laughed, and walked up to the bouncer, who's muscular stature and piercing hazel eyes had Simon cringing. That is, until his face broke into a wide smile.

"Isabella!" He exclaimed, clapping her on the back as she hugged him. "He's waiting for you in the back, go right through."

Simon and Clary shared a look, and the trio entered the club.

Inside it smelled like sweat and beer and bad decisions, but the music was rhythmic and the lights cast a mysterious glow over everyone. Clary remembered how much she liked clubbing.

She was waiting for Isabelle to approach the large, lit bar at the edge, but she just kept pulling her friends further into the depths.

Then Clary caught sight of their destination, and her face broke into a wide smile. Isabelle noticed and laughed, and let go of her friend's hand so that the red head could sprint forward, as fast as her heels could carry her, into the arms of her old friend.

"Alec!" She exclaimed, wrapping her slim arms around his neck. Alec laughed and spun her around, her red hair whipping at his face.

"Cherry." He addressed, his usually stoic face wrapped in a happy grin. "It's been so long."

Clary laughed and let go of him, pulling back to stare into his clear blue eyes, studying his face. It had been too long, she thought, and his strong jaw was even more defined, his stature slime and his hair longer. He must really be letting loose if he wasn't keeping his hair in its usual military short style.

Considering he had been discharged, it made sense.

"Too long, Alec. Damn. I've missed you so much." She heard Isabelle approach behind her and she moved back to allow the siblings to greet each other. That's when she noticed Alec's companion for the first time.

The golden god.

He was wearing his usual dark jeans, and tonight he had on a dark, tight crew neck that was insulting to any person trying to look good, because how could they next to him.

And he was staring right at her, his usually light eyes dark and wide.

Then he caught her looking, and he smirked.

"Oh, yeah. This is Jace." Alec said, gesturing to aforementioned golden god. "He's a friend, and my roommate.

Jace looked away from Clary and gave a nod to the others, and Clary was glad it was too dark to see her blush. Isabelle shot an excited look her way and, noticing the look on Clary's face, smirked.

"Alec, come with Simon and I to get drinks." She said. "Jordan let me know you were in here, so I know you have the discount." She said cunningly, and Alec rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. All my sister wants me for is money… It's endearing really." He muttered, and Izzy

jabbed him in the chest and pulled Simon away, leaving the mortified Clary alone with 'Jace'."

She could feel his eyes burning a hole right through her, and turned back to him to see him eyeing her in a way that made her heart pound uncontrollably.

"So." He began. "I thought you worked nights." He said, and Clary frowned before composing herself.

"I do." She cringed at the breathiness of her voice. "I mean, usually. I have a night off." He nodded, and she saw his eyes flash to something behind her. His face hardened, and she turned to see a man she didn't know leant against a wall, smirking at her, eyes fixed on the amount of exposed skin on show from her short dress. She turned back to Jace, and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, his voice, harsher than she had heard it before, snapped out.

"Do you always dress like you hang around on street corners, or is it just tonight?" He spat, his accent suddenly seeming a whole lot less charming. Clary blanched.

And before she could register her actions, her hand whipped out to smack him across the face. Her hand hit his tan cheek with a resounding slap, and his head turned; more from shock than force.

"Have a nice life, asshole." She said, still shocked at the aggression that had previously possessed him, and she spun away on her heels, ignoring the look that crossed Jace's face.

/

Everything was so bright.

After she had left Jace, Clary ended up alone at the bar, pulling out her bag ready to waste her weeks wages. Several shots of tequila and an unidentifiably pink cocktail later, the small red head was swaying in her shoes.

The music was suddenly a thousand times better, and after another shot of something fiery, she was on the dance floor, twirling and shaking and moving her hips in a perfect imitation of Izzy. There was a man behind her, girls glaring beside her and a crowd of people watching her. Her friends were no where in sight, but that didn't matter because she was feeling too free to care, the alcohol layering a comforting blanket over her mind.

Her jacket had been discarded long ago, and her arms were up and down her body, in the air, running through her mussed up curls.

Large hands suddenly landed on her lips, and hot breath ticked her ears. She tried to turn around but the person just ran their hands up her body and whispered comforting words that she couldn't hear properly into her ear.

"C'mon, baby. You know you want me." The words were hazy and blocked by the intoxicating music that washed through her ears, and her grinding hips came to a halt as she was dragged off of the dance floor by whoever was behind her.

"Hey." She mumbled as she tripped along behind him, his grip tight around her wrist. "Leggo." She slurred.

All of a sudden she found herself pushed against a wall, harsh lips and rough hands pressed against her. She wasn't in the main club anymore, and she suddenly realised that she was outside the back of the club, the breeze caressing her like the grimy fingers of the sleezy guy.

"Please." She said, louder. "Get off!" The fog from the alcohol was clearing, but her pushes and shoves weren't enough to move the muscular body of her assailant. Hot, smoke scented lips locked onto her own and she pushed against his chest, fury and fear gripping her.

"Stop that, bitch." The guy muttered, pinning her hands against the wall. She bucked against him, then whimpered as his fist connected with her face.

And then, almost as quick as it had started, it was over. The guy was wrenched away from her and Clary watched in wonder as a figure appeared out of the club, approaching her attacker and throwing him to the ground. A sickening crunch landed on the guys face, and then her saviour approached her.

She gasped in surprise.

Jace.

"Hey, hey. Are you okay?" His voice was emotionless, and he pulled her to her feet.

"I'm fine." She muttered, pushing him away from her, only to almost fall over when she did.

Jace reached out and grabbed her, heaving out a frustrated sigh, muttering angrily under his breath.

"C'mon. I'll text Alec. Just come with me."

/

That's how she found herself sitting in an empty coffee shop with Jace. Her head was clear now, and she was shivering in the night in her skimpy outfit.

She glared at Jace, remembering his earlier comment.

She was sat at a booth and Jace had gone to get coffee, and now she was feeling highly violated and highly humiliated. He approached, his attractive form now salt in the wound of his scathing remarks, and deposited a black coffee in front of her. He left it untouched as he sipped from his own and settled down opposite her.

"A thank you would be nice." He said quietly, the malice from earlier gone. Anger and indignation gripped her at that remark, and she shot him a scathing look.

"For what? For helping me back there? I'm shocked; I would've thought that's what you expected from someone off a street corner. I've been wondering why you didn't ask for a go."

Clary clapped a hand over her mouth at that remark, and her companion looked down.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." She whispered shakily, feeling sick with herself. She never behaved like this. She made a move to stand up, avoiding looking at him.

A warm hand shot out and stopped her movements.

"No." Came a hard voice. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I didn't mean anything. I just saw that guy looking at you, like a piece of meat and…" He trailed off, and Clary's expression softened at his apology. "I lost it. I'm sorry."

Clary glanced back at him, then sat back down. He sighed, and an awkward silence settled around them. Clary shivered in the cool night air. Jace noticed and began to shrug off his jacket.

"Here; I texted Alec, Izzy has all your stuff. I'll drop you back when things have… calmed down." Clary took the warm leather, too tired to protest, and pulled it on. It was soft and calmed her, and smelled pleasantly like lemon soap.

"Thanks." She said, and finally reached over to wrap her fingers around the coffee. She let her eyes flutter shut as she swallowed her pride. "And thank you. Really. That guy…" She trailed off, and opened her eyes, trying not to let her voice crack as she remembered his fingers on her skin.

"I'm guessing Isabelle dragged you there; Alec is friends with the owner." Jace said, and a shot of jealousy ran through her. She used to know Alec so well, but it had been a long time. She nodded.

"Yeah, she did. Clubbing's not really my thing." She replies, taking a long gulp of hit coffee. He raised his eyebrows, his golden eyes twinkling at her.

"I never would have guessed from the way you were dancing. You looked… happy." He said with a laugh, and Clary groaned.

"Yeah, okay. I was a bit off my game, but I do love to dance." Jace laughed at that, and Clary smiled shyly. This wasn't so bad.

And then Jace stood up, holding up a hand.

"Dance with me?" He said with a grin, and Clary shook her head.

"Nope, no way. Jace- we're in a café, there isn't even any music." She ate her words as he pulled an ipod from his pocket, spiderweb thin ear buds dangling from his fingers.

What the hell.

She stood up and took Jace's hand, placing an earbud in her ear and letting Jace hold onto her gently. Music began to filter over her, but it was nothing like the club; it was soft and mellow, off beat and familiar.

"The Stranglers?" She questioned with a laugh, and he pulled her in closer, his touch electrifying, their faces so close.

"Problem?" He smirked at her, and she shook her head, letting her eyes fall shut as they began to dance in the middle of the empty café. It was a fitting choice; everything about him was golden. She could hear someone laughing in the distance, but the chords from the music were moving her, and she let herself relax in her partner's arms. They were just spinning, laughing every now and then, Jace twirling her in and out. She knew that they must look a sight, her in her heels and a too big jacket, an unimpressive dwarf to Jace's stunning looks.

"I don't even know you're name." He suddenly murmured and Clary laughed. "Cherry?" He enquired, and Clary laughed again, this time intoxicated by giddiness rather than alcohol. Jace rolled his eyes impatiently, and Clary found the world turning as Jace dipped her, their faces close, Hugh Cornwell crooning in her ears. She gasped.

"Clary." She laughed, and was rewarded with a smile that set butterflies wild in her stomach. "I'm Clary."

He lifted her back up, and spun her again.

 _No need to fight, never a frown, with golden brown._


End file.
